


For the love of silk

by Munnin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Crack, M/M, smutty crack, utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Baze wears ladies’ underwear. Technically almost every part of that statement is untrue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Utter and pure crack written for this prompt here: http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=132924#cmt132924
> 
> I wish I could say I'm sorry. But I would be lying.

Baze wore ladies’ underwear.

Technically almost every part of that statement was untrue. 

Baze’s life was rough. The city they lived in, the life they lead, the things he did to keep them safe. None of it was easy. Nothing about his life was gentle. 

So occasionally Baze indulged in nice things. Just he could. Because what was the point if you didn’t?

And one of his favourite indulgences was soft fabrics. Lashaa silk especially. 

His outer layers had to be sturdy, hard-wearing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t wear something softer underneath. And there was a practicality to it as well. Good silk was hard wearing, even thin layers acted as surprisingly good insulation and it dried quickly so he could wash his under-things more often.

The problem he found was that most soft silks could only be found in ladies’ garments. It irritated him. A lot. Mostly because even if he could find anything in a size he could wear, it cut in all wrong and made him uncomfortable. 

So, he gave up on that idea. And went back to being annoyed about it. It wasn’t fair that no-one made such things for men. Surely he wasn’t the only man who liked soft, silky fabrics. There wasn’t anything shameful about enjoying something nice next to your skin. 

It wasn’t till he was running down a mark in the back streets of lower NiJedha that he came across a little shop that made intimate garments to measure. 

The little tailor who ran the shop made no judgement, only apologised that none of his finery fabrics came in particularly masculine colours. Only the light blues and jewel shaded purples most traditional for ladies-wear.

He happily took Baze’s order and did his very best to dye them more appropriate shades of pinks and ambers. 

The first batch were not a particular success however. The dye didn’t hold well and Baze found his skin tinted rather peculiar colours. And it took a hell of a lot of scrubbing to get off. 

After that, he contented himself with shades of purple and violet he found he rather liked anyway. Besides, who was ever going to see them? The only person he ever changed around was blind anyway. 

So Baze wore ladies’ underwear. Only they weren’t ladies’, they were his. He paid for them, they were made to fit him. Therefore, they were his. 

And the rest of the galaxy could go suck exhaust if it had a problem with that. 

***

Chirrut always loved the sound Baze made when he moving. There was something soft and sensual to the sound of Baze’s clothes. Under the clunk of armour and the heaviness of his boots, there was something secret and rustling. Something that was so uniquely Baze.

They shared a sleeping place more often than not, but Baze usually slept in his clothes and at least part of his armour. A practice of paranoia. But Chirrut loved to listen to the sound of his companion dress, and hear him wash the slips of soft cloth when they could spare the water. 

He was even brave enough to sneak a touch while they were drying, while Baze was out getting them food one day. The softness of it took his breath away; so sensual, and so at odds with the big gruff guardian’s outward demeanour. 

Days past and Chirrut found himself wondering how different it would feel against Baze’s skin. Warm and tactile. It must be so nice to wear. The texture was so different from the demicot silk the red under-layer of his own robes was made of. Demicot had been worn by the Jedi for millennia, it’s tough weave able to withstand all sorts of condition. But the silk of Baze’s under-garments was something else entirely. 

Chirrut found himself thinking about Baze’s underwear more and more. Losing himself in fantasies of what it would feel like on Baze, on himself, under his hands, against his body.

Baze noticed that Chirrut had become quieter, more withdrawn of late, and worried about his friend. One morning, as they were dressing ready to leave their little squat, Baze asked him. “Are you getting sick? If you are, you should tell me.”

Chirrut cocked his head, smiling. “Not sick, my friend, just thoughtful.” He could tell by the sound of cloth that Baze was only half dressed, his heavy flight-suit only zipped to the waist, the arms hanging free around Baze’s hips. 

“Are you sure? Chirrut, you’re flushed.” Baze came closer, resting the back of his hand on Chirrut’s forehead. 

Chirrut took the chance and ran his hand up Baze’s chest. Hard muscle and soft silk, warm and perfect. 

“Chirrut?” Baze asked in confusing as Chirrut rubbed his smooth cheek against Baze’s silk clad stomach.”

“Hmm. Just as soft as I imagined.” Chirrut purred, “And it warms to your skin so well.” 

Baze felt his breathing quicken as Chirrut’s hand slipped down the front of the barely zipped flightsuit, feeling for the hems of the rather scant briefs. There was no way for Baze to hide his reaction. 

Chirrut grins up at him, leaning in to run his lips over the cloth and the swelling warmth beneath. 

It was a good thing they washed easily. 

Needless to say, Baze never got to dress again without Chirrut _sharing_ his love of silk undergarments.


End file.
